Meaning
by libreg
Summary: House and Wilson have a conversation about House's future.


House's apartment was lifeless, murky. Every corner of his one-bedroom living space was neatly organized, from the alphabetized bookshelves to the orderly medicine cabinet. Every corner of course except the couch area that House's catatonic body was sprawling on. There was an assortment of different potato chip bags lying around him, some full, some empty, and some with chips spilled on the floor. House absentmindedly took a sip of his Budweiser while the unattended TV displayed images of old school wrestlers beating the crap out of each other. An annoyed expression suddenly replaced his previously vacant face, and he started to stumble towards the bathroom. His cane was on the other side of the room for reasons he was too intoxicated to remember, and his drunkenness made it difficult to be a crippled man walking to the bathroom. Just as he was about to urinate, he heard a knock on the door. House never liked to be bothered on his day off, and unfortunately for his visitor today he felt that conviction even stronger. House tiptoed as well as a cripple man could towards his couch and stayed silent. He didn't care whether it was Cuddy, Cameron, his father, or the president of Finland. The only face he wanted to see today was his own from the reflection of a beer bottle. And he wasn't even sure about that. Much to his dismay, he heard a key inserted into the lock and his door opened. House's face revealed mild disgust as he brusquely declaimed, "for your own sake the next words that come out of your mouth better be 'my ex-wife just died' because I am not in the mood for this".

Wilson shifted his eyes from House to his feet and he solemnly stood there for a moment before murmuring, "my ex-wife just died."

House's eyes immediately widened and his lips parted slightly. "Really?!"

"Ok, no".

House rushed to Wilson, pushing him with one hand and the door with the other.

"Ok ok ok! I'm sorry I broke into your house. I'm just worried about you. No matter how much you like this persona of, of, the acerbic lone Wolf who is respected no matter his actions because of world renown expertise, it's not healthy. It's never been healthy, Greg."

"I must have missed that heath class in med school, I was probably busy banging your girlfriend. Leave."

"Just five minutes. I think you owe me that much. I have to meet up with Laura anyway, I won't be long."

House took a moment to consider this with his back facing Wilson. Then, he turned around to reveal a sly smile on his face and said, "Laura, huh? Is this another cancer patient you're consoling with your dreamy eyes," he emphasized 'dreamy', "or is it a candidate for future ex-wife number four? Or is it both? Oh God, it's both isn't it?"

"Ohhhhhh no, we're not doing this right now. Come here." Wilson supported House's back with his arm and led him to the couch. He sat next to him. "You know," House started, "if you had bought me a bucket of the colonel's I would have let you in with much less resistance"

"Stop hiding behind humor, House. It was endearing 2000 jokes ago. Open up to me. Have a real human to human connection. You know, like you see in the talkies."

House squinted his eyes and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "A real human connection… well, back in college, when your girlfriend was letting out screams of ecstasy to my rhythmic pelvic thrusts, I accidentally knocked over one of my favorite vases. You know the one, it was purple with firebreathing dragons on it. I felt sad."

Wilson, with his mouth slightly open, rolled his eyes and rubbed his face in exasperation. He glanced down at the fallen chip bag, grabbed it, and ate one. The crackling sounds annoyed House so he grabbed the bag and threw it towards the bathroom. Wilson, unfazed, suddenly stopped chewing on his potato chip and turned to House. "You want to go for a walk?"

They chose a relatively isolated park where they could stare at the water while Wilson accommodated House's slow and uneven gait. The trees were decorated with the newly born leaves of spring. Squirrels here and there would playfully hop towards their trees, trying to outrun each other in games only they knew the rules to. The occasional jogger labored past them with exulted breath and worn-out sneakers. House would take this opportunity to analyze a girl's ass, while Wilson took it as an opportunity to select the right words. "How long do you think you can keep living like this? Your only genuine human contact is right next to you, and you're shutting yourself out. I get that you live for the puzzle. You're a curious guy. But it's just another floor on top of your hedonistic palace. You get a buzz, a high from solving, from diagnosing patients who no one else can. Obviously, you also get high from Vicodin. But there's no meaning behind any of this. A man whose principles aren't guided by any meaning is balancing on a much compromised balancing beam, my friend."

"You're right; I'll start attending my local church. Can we go home now?"

A breeze picked up, and Wilson noticed a flat piece of stone directly underneath a swaying tree. "House, let's go sit over there. I want to show you something."

"The view from here is nice, isn't it? Me and my parents used to come here when I was a kid. I hated this place because there's nothing for a kid to do here. Sure the scenery is beautiful, but a kid needs stimuli, maybe another kid to spread germs with. But you know, you turn into a teenager and things start to change. More importantly, your interests change. It's inevitable."

"Whenever your tone is soft and hypnotic like this, you're always about to say something you perceive to be deep and enlightening. Don't you have a therapist for this?"

Wilson ignored him. "I came back here as a teenager to impress this girl I was going out with. She was my first girlfriend. She was a beautiful girl. There were plenty of guys after her. But, like any other beautiful teenage girl, she was demanding and a little superficial. She was really into jewelry, and she had her eyes on this particular turquoise emerald. I don't know how I got mixed into this but she started suddenly demanding that I save up and buy it for her. I was a kid! No way in hell I could buy that. But truthfully, I was infatuated with her. And she used to say how some other guys could easily buy it for her, coming from rich families and all. That made me jealous. Looking back I feel silly, but I felt so emasculated that I couldn't get something my girlfriend wanted. That she thought less of me for it. So guess what I did?"

"You became a doctor?"

"Yep".

"You're an idiot", he said, smiling.

"Yeah, I was. My foresight was blocked by my girlfriend's attractive genetic material. That's really all it was. And I know how you were joking about banging my girlfriend in college, but she really did end up cheating on me. With some rich guy that played for the rugby team. I was furious. I was hurt. I didn't come out of my room for a week. I wanted to drop out of med school."

House looked uneasy as he shifted his weight for comfort. He slowly turned his gaze from his orthopedic sneakers towards Wilson's right shoulder. "I think I know where this is going."

"Let me finish. Obviously I didn't drop out of med school. Instead I learned a lesson that I have carried with me through every turbulent period of my life. I was put in a situation that I didn't want to be in for shaky reasons. I was heading towards a career that didn't have much to do with my interests or my personality. But I didn't go through a drastic personality change. I didn't become a misanthrope who isolates himself behind his acerbic humor. I didn't continue chasing one high after the other. I used my intellect and my proclivity for problem solving in a way you haven't done since you lost function of your foot. I didn't find meaning, I created it. I used my creative writing skills to find ways of letting my patients know they only have six months to live. Sympathetic ways. Some of them thank me when I let them know. And you know what? I'm better off for all of this. But I look at you, and all I see is a sad man chasing for the next high. I don't want to see you in a morgue, Greg. You're my best friend. And more importantly, you're letting your intellect go to waste when you can have a life. An actual life where you allow yourself to feel things and share those things with people who care about you. "

By this point Wilson's passion had urged him off his seat and gesturing in the air with his hands. His hair was messy from the quick hand brushes he unconsciously made during his talk. But his speech was now done, and recognizing how silly he looked in front of a family walking their dogs, he slowly sat back down. There was a silence that was intensified by House's relatively rare peaceful gaze into the horizon. After a long wait, House spoke.

"You tell unsuspecting families that their son or wife has a cancer diagnosis every day. And you look at me, and you can't recognize I have a cancer in my soul. How is that possible?"

Wilson let out an audible sigh when he saw that his long and impassioned speech had no effect on his friend. They usually never do, but he put extraordinary effort into delivering this one. When Wilson attempted to forcefully end the silence, House continued.

"You think that my obsession with diagnosing patients, my Vicodin addiction, are all Demons keeping me back from my full potential. Wrong. They are the only things keeping me alive. Without the artificial pleasure that comes from solving another puzzle, I would be a dead man. I would be a dead man because I'm smart enough to recognize that we are beings who thirst for meaning in a world devoid of any. The fact that you rationalized yourself into thinking you have genuine meaning is your problem, not mine."

House turned his back to a disconcerted Wilson and began walking home.


End file.
